


i'm sorry for being what i am

by Anonymous



Series: of endermen and snow [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Anxiety, Anxious Ranboo, Enderman Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Hybrid Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), One-Shots, Panic Attacks, Piglin Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo has trust issues, Ranboo needs a hug, Ranboo-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Trust Issues, Winged Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), and he gets several, and you can fight me on ranboo having three dads now, because i'm soft like that, because that's what I call two guys and an enderman protecting and caring for a half-ender child, edward needs his own tag guys, it's important, platonic coparenting, so much enderman lore because i can, this is my fic and i choose the canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:46:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28694160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Ranboo is a little self-conscious of his enderman attributes. Techno, Phil, and our resident enderman Edward help him out.---Chapter 7: The admin looks in their direction just in time to bring his shield up and catch Techno’s axe blow, shouting something Ranboo can’t hear over the roaring in his ears. Something pulses behind his ribcage, something reaching and freezing, and Ranboo doesn’t try to push it back. In seconds he’s next to Phil, sword raised to deflect Punz’s before he spins around and slashes at Sapnap, forcing the man to release his captive or lose a hand.Sapnap looks up and locks eyes with Ranboo. A mistake, really.
Relationships: Ranboo & Edward (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo & Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: of endermen and snow [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2100597
Comments: 477
Kudos: 2734
Collections: Anonymous





	1. height

**Author's Note:**

> Yo, how about a series of one-shots about some anxious Ranboo and his enderman-ness? Have fun reading!

Ranboo knows he’s taller than almost everyone on the server. He knows oh so well that it serves as a constant reminder of what he is. And while he knows that being half-ender doesn’t make him any more dangerous than anyone else, he also knows that it makes people afraid of him. Afraid that he’ll go feral or he’ll tear apart their homes or that he will hurt them. 

It’s a simple matter to just hunch down and make himself smaller, speak softer, be still and meek and  _ safe _ . He’s well practiced in it, and has been since long before joining the SMP. At this point it’s almost instinctual to hide himself and silence his presence, to make himself small. 

And when Phil invites Ranboo to live with him, Ranboo  _ knows _ neither the winged man nor Technoblade would ever have any reason to be afraid of  _ him _ of all people. And yet...

And yet. 

Old habits are hard to break. 

So he makes himself small, takes up as little of their space and food and hospitality as he can. He hopes it’s enough for them not to regret letting him stay. 

Techno is the first to bring it up, in passing and without looking up from the book in his hands. “Why are you all bent over like that? You have plenty of headspace. That  _ can’t  _ be good for your back.”

Ranboo just chuckles nervously and wraps his arms around himself, pointedly ignoring the chiding warble from Edward. He’s  _ fine _ , everything’s fine, there’s no need to worry...

Techno, in response to his non-answer, merely raises an eyebrow and goes back to his reading. 

Phil comments on it next, while they’re bent over the plans the man had insisted on for Ranboo’s house. 

“Do you want taller doors?” It’s asked absently, offhanded. “Then you’ll actually be able to stand up straight, stretch your legs.”

Ranboo only ducks his head further between his shoulders. “I don’t mind a regular door. I’ll be fine.”

With a knowing, sidelong glance, Phil made a note on the blueprints. “But will you be  _ comfortable?  _ This is going to be your place, mate. You should be able to just be yourself.”

_ Be yourself.  _ As if it’s that simple. 

Still, it’s nice of him to say it. 

“If it’s not too much of a bother…” Ranboo finally concedes, face averted. “That would be nice.”

The smile Phil shoots his way makes the acceptance so much more worth it, and soon the two of them have their heads together again, planning how to arrange a building for the half-ender’s comfort. 

From there it’s a gradual change, a slow build of confidence as Ranboo comes to realize… not only do they not care that he’s part ender, they  _ do _ care that he’s forcing himself to hide it by making himself small. They carefully coax him to stand taller in the smallest of ways —building furniture to his size, expanding the doors, even hovering at face level when speaking with him, in Phil’s case. Techno contributes with… encouragement. It gives Ranboo the weirdest confidence boost when the ex-(ex?)-retired warrior compliments his build or his skill or even just expresses genuine gratitude when Ranboo grabs something off of a high shelf for him.

( _ Why would he have shelves that high in his house anyway? Didn’t he make it for himself, shouldn’t it be his size? _

_ Ooohhh, that’s why Phil was so insistent on the doors to Ranboo’s place being taller. That makes sense now. _ )

Even with all of that, though, his anxiety about his height is still more of an open secret than something that’s actually acknowledged. That is, until Edward gets impatient.

It happens on a quiet evening when the three hybrids are gathered in Techno’s front room, trying to arrange his chests so a couch can fit along one wall. Edward, watching from his corner, hasn’t looked away from Ranboo since he entered —a very clear sign of intention for enders. It makes Ranboo nervous, obviously, and the kid has been placing either Techno or Phil between him and the very,  _ very _ focused enderman as often as possible. Unfortunately for him, neither of the men seem to realize his predicament, and Phil even sends him to grab something or other from a chest that is  _ directly next to _ Edward’s boat.

And it’s just when he’s edging by that Edward actually gets up and reaches for him. Techno gives a wordless shout of surprise and Phil makes an aborted move towards them, but before they can do anything drastic Edward just gently places a clawed hand on Ranboo’s chest and one on his lower back, applying gentle pressure until the teen is standing at full height, if a bit tense under the enderman’s guiding hold. 

Edward steps back into his boat with a satisfied air, and Ranboo doesn’t dare hunch over again, still frozen in place by shock.

Phil lets out a low whistle. “You’re taller than I thought. We might have to adjust your doors again.”

And Ranboo can’t help his small, incredulous laugh at that because… that’s it? Really? He towers over them, head brushing the ceiling, and the first thing Phil comments on is needing to fix his doors.

By increments, Ranboo relaxes and goes back to helping with the interior decorating. He doesn’t go back to trying to make himself small. He wouldn’t put it past Edward to correct him again, really, but the thought warms his heart.

Maybe he has more people in his corner than he realized.


	2. holding things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Technoblade is going to kill him. Ranboo is hiding in Carl’s stall and clutching Techno’s front door in his hands and Technoblade is going to kill him. That’s all he knows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enderman like holding things. I headcanon that Ranboo holds things when he's anxious. Like, there have been a couple times where I see him break a block or fence or something while monologuing for seemingly no reason and so here we are.
> 
> edit: i was so right look at me go

Technoblade is going to kill him. Ranboo is hiding in Carl’s stall and clutching Techno’s front door in his hands and Technoblade is going to kill him. That’s all he knows. He can’t remember why he’s here or how he got here or what happened to lead to him having a panic attack in a pile of hay behind a horse while holding a door, but surely no one would tolerate having their  _ front door _ stolen so all the heat is let out and all the snow is let in and the cold and the damp is allowed to wreck all of their stuff, and so, once he finds him, Technoblade is going to kill him. 

If Ranboo doesn’t suffocate first, that is. He can’t seem to breathe and his chest is tight and burning and  _ oh Ender he’s going to die here— _

A soft winny breaks through the fog and a weight settles on his shoulder, Carl’s nose pulling him back to lean against the horse’s side.

Ranboo wheezes a slightly hysterical laugh. Now Technoblade won’t just kill him for stealing his door, but also his horse! And Ranboo still can’t breathe and the walls of the stable are closing in and the air is thick and hot but also so sharp and cold and the wood of the door beneath his hands is the only real thing he can stay focused on except  _ he’d stolen a door from the Blood God and he’s going to die _ .

The stall gate creaks open and there’s a slight pause before the newcomer calls gently, “Ranboo?”

And there’s Techno. Well, Ranboo had a good run, and the lack of air sure did try but it looks like Technoblade is going to be the one that gets the honor of killing him instead of suffocation.

Ranboo still can’t let go of the door.

He’s vaguely aware of Techno entering the small space and crouching next to him, hands hovering as if he’s unsure what to do next. “Ranboo? You need to breathe, kid.”

It’s not like he isn’t  _ trying _ .

Techno seems to get that, and asks quietly, “Can I take one of your hands, Ranboo?”

After a moment’s thought that sounds a little like  _ please I’m dying it hurts so much help _ in his head, Ranboo offers a jerky nod. The man gently grabs his hand, only having to massage it gently for a moment to get it to release the door, then places that hand on his chest. “Okay, here’s how we’re going to do this. Breathe with me. In.” And Ranboo can feel the chest rise under his palm. “Out. Come on, try with me.”

On the next breath the kid tries to follow and chokes on a small whine.

“No, no, you’re okay.” Techno sounds a bit panicked himself, but he keeps going. “Let’s try again. In. Out. There, good job, again. In. Out.”

It takes… an embarrassingly long time, but eventually Ranboo can breathe without instruction and is aware enough of himself again to offer the man his door back. “Um… sorry, for taking your door? Please don’t be mad at me.”

The pigling snorts. “You think I’m gonna yell at a kid who just had a panic attack? Not only would that be a jerk move but on top of that, Phil  _ and _ Chat would never give me a moment’s peace ever again.” He stands, brushes himself off, and holds a hand out to Ranboo. “Think you can get up? We should probably take this somewhere warmer and not, yknow, in a cramped stable.”

Hesitantly, Ranboo accepts the hand up, door still clutched in his other hand. As soon as he actually stands, though, his knees buckle and Techno catches him with a grunt. “Okay, so we’re just going to sit back down for a moment then.”

He lowers Ranboo to the floor, and the half-ender curls into Carl’s side again, catching his breath as the dizziness recedes. Techno regards him silently for a moment before levering himself to his feet again. “I’m going to get you something to drink. I’ll be right back, okay?”

Closing his eyes with a sudden wave of exhaustion, Ranboo nods and sinks further in Carl’s flank. The horse huffs, breath stirring the kid’s hair as Techno slips out of the stall and back into the house.

Some unknown amount of time passes before Techno is shaking a drowsing Ranboo awake, holding a glass of milk in one hand with something fabric draped over one arm. “Here. Thought some milk might be better than water, considering you’re pretty drained and I have  _ no idea _ what your comfort level with water is. Also, this.” He pulls the fabric off his arm and presses it into Ranboo’s free hand. “You can grip that all you like, it’s probably nicer to hold than my door.”

Surprisingly, it’s easy to shift his grip to the new item, and he clutches it to his chest before accepting the glass from Techno. The other hybrid nods once before picking up the now-discarded door. “I’m going to put this away, so like, compose yourself or whatever. I’ll come back in a few, alright?”

Ranboo nods, and Techno is gone again.

That… went better than he was expecting.  _ Maybe _ his panic blew it all out of proportion. Ranboo still wouldn’t put it past Technoblade to kill him over some other slight later, but it seems he’s safe this time.

He gently squeezes the soft fabric in his hands. 

Yes, for right now at the very least, he’s safe.


	3. ender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He can be silent if he needs to, if it bothers his new landlords, if it will keep him safe. He hopes, though, that he won’t have to be afraid here. 
> 
> (L’Manberg didn’t really appreciate being reminded of his ender half.)
> 
> He is so tired of being afraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just FYI, this is non-compliant with “The most dangerous thing is to love.” They’re separate aus that I just put together in a “Ranboo living with Phil and Techno” series. Letting you know in case the whole “never talking with Edward before” thing is confusing.
> 
> Also not going to do the distorted thing for the ender language because that’s the only language being spoken here and too much of it hurts my eyes. I’m just putting it in italics to signify it’s ender, so. Yeah.

A few days after Phil brought him here, Ranboo sneaks into Techno’s house to speak with Edward. Edward had been staying with the piglin hybrid for a while, surely he’d know if it’s safe for Ranboo here? Stable enough that he can trust them long-term?

Gathering the cloak Techno had given him during his embarrassing episode with the door in his hands (the one he’d insisted he keep, because of the snow and Ranboo’s distinct lack of winter clothing), the half-ender carefully pushes the door open and peeks in. It doesn’t look like the other two are home, only Edward chilling in his boat in the corner. 

The emptiness allows Ranboo to relax, just a little. He hasn’t spoken to Edward in front of them before, and he’s not sure what their stance on that is exactly. He hasn’t seen Techno talk with the enderman, and he hasn’t seen him talk in piglin at all either, so his opinion on hybrid languages is unclear.

He  _ should _ be okay with it though, right? He’s a hybrid himself, and it’s not like there’s any piglins here for him to talk to.

But what if he’s not? What if he’s like those hybrids who believe they’re just a subsection of humans and suppress their mob sides?

...Techno’s a little violent and anarchistic for that, though. He’s probably not like that. Right?

Ranboo can just ask Edward, probably. Can ask if Techno’s ever seemed bothered by Edward making noise.

He can be silent if he needs to, if it bothers his new landlords, if it will keep him safe. He hopes, though, that he won’t have to be afraid here. 

(L’Manberg didn’t really appreciate being reminded of his ender half.)

He is so tired of being afraid.

Edward looks up as the boy slinks into the room, and Ranboo stares at the elder’s hands for a moment while he thinks of the best way to ask  _ if I hum wrong in the presence of these people will they hurt me _ without sounding paranoid.

_ “I was wondering when you were going to come to me, young one, _ ” the enderman murmurs in the slightly guttural voice of his people.  _ “Is there something wrong? You appear distressed.” _

_ “Sorry.” _ Ranboo shifts his gaze to his own hands, fiddling with the cuffs of his suit jacket.  _ “I would have greeted you earlier but I wasn’t sure…” _

The enderman’s short  _ vwoop _ of understanding catches Ranboo’s attention and the kid looks up, half-hopeful that he won’t even have to ask. Edward beckons him closer and places long, clawed hands on his shoulders with a light squeeze.  _ “There is no danger here, child. The Blade is a defense and the Angel a shield. This is a safe place.” _

_ “They wouldn’t fear me?” _ he clarifies anxiously. He  _ needs _ to be sure.  _ “I wouldn’t hurt them?” _

An enderman’s laugh is choppy and warbled, apparently, and Ranboo can feel heat rising in his face.  _ “What’s so funny?” _

_ “It is not possible that they would fear you,” _ Edward assures, still chuckling.  _ “And it is impossible that you could hurt them. They have conquered worlds and brought nations to their knees. You are but a child, with stars still behind your eyes.” _

Something loosens in Ranboo’s chest at the familiar-unfamiliar ender idiom, but he’s been bitten too often to not check the grass extensively for snakes.  _ “And they wouldn’t mind… this?” _ He waves a hand between the two of them.  _ “They wouldn’t mind me talking when they cannot understand?” _

_ “They know there is much they cannot understand.” _ Edward leans back in his boat, gaze fixed on Ranboo’s crown.  _ “There is no harm in this aspect of you remaining a mystery. They can come to know you regardless.”  _ He chuckles again, soft ender particles sparking and fuzzing around him.  _ “I’m sure they will enjoy the challenge.” _

_ “Oh.” _ He blinks, processing that. It doesn’t feel real.  _ “They really won’t mind?” _

Edward tilts his head fondly.  _ “They really won’t mind.” _

It’s like a weight has been lifted from Ranboo’s chest, making it easier to breathe and move and think. It’s such a relief, not having to hide his soft noises and to be able to talk to one of his people so freely. He has so many questions for Edward, and it seems (if Edward is right) that he’ll have all the time in the word to ask them.

He beams up at the elder, eyes sparkling.  _ “Thank you for telling me! It’s good to know.” _

The enderman reaches down to ruffle the kids hair, knocking his crown askew.  _ “It will be good to have someone to speak to. The Blade speaks, sometimes, but does not often understand.” _ He pauses thoughtfully.  _ “Perhaps they might even let you teach them our tongue?” _

_ “Really?” _ Ranboo bounces a little on the balls of his feet, his previous anxiety shifting to new excitement.  _ “That would be amazing!” _

_ “The Blade craves knowledge even more than his mind-crowd craves violence,” _ Edward informs him blithely.  _ “And the Angel is very supportive.” _

“Wow,” Ranboo murmurs in common, mind whirling with all of this new information. He finds himself speechless, unable to comprehend how  _ different _ it is here. He can really just… speak? He doesn’t need to premeditate every word, every sound, to fit himself into what the people around him expect?

_ “Thank you,” _ he says again, breathless.  _ “Thank you, elder.” _

Edward rights Ranboo’s crown and brushes his bangs out of his face.  _ “You are very welcome, child. May the stars behind your eyes never fade.” _

Ranboo cannot remember the last time he felt so free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love my endermen boys and also my headcanon enderman lore. I've been sitting on the phrase _"stars behind your eyes"_ to signify innocence and trust for so long, especially thinking about the end and the void, and I just had to put it in here because I especially love all my headcanon-associations of the phrase in the context of Ranboo. I would go on at length about what I think of enderman language and language in general shaping how you view the world, but this isn't a linguistics class, this is a fanfiction. So. I gave you the fluff bits. I hope you enjoyed!


	4. water and snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snow isn’t as bad as rain, but it’s still water.
> 
> Not that Ranboo’s complaining! Phil and Techno had been kind enough to let him stay near them, he’s not about to whine about the biome they’ve chosen to live in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is like. 500 words longer than all of the others. How.

When Ranboo built his house, he didn’t want to take up a lot of space. After all, the dog kennel still had to fit in the little hollow of the mountainside, and Techno has a  _ lot _ of dogs. It’s not like Ranboo needs a lot of space, anyway. He’s survived with less than he has now. Honestly, he’s thankful Phil has offered him even this much.

The problem is that, in taking up so little space, his housing situation isn’t very secure. He had chosen to not have walls to make his space feel bigger  ~~ and so he can see if anyone approaches and doesn’t feel like he’s putting a lot of effort in an impermanent place that he will probably be kicked out from eventually ~~ but that had the unforeseen consequence of actually being literally no protection at all against the weather. Even though he’s never lived in a snow biome before, he probably should have expected all the, well… snow.

Snow isn’t as bad as rain, but it’s still water.

Not that Ranboo’s complaining! Phil and Techno had been kind enough to let him stay near them, he’s not about to whine about the biome they’ve chosen to live in. It’s not the first time he’s lived somewhere uncomfortable, he can deal with it.

It’s just… this night in particular seems to have a lot of wind, and again, he doesn’t have any walls.

But it’s fine! It’s perfectly fine, he’ll just… wrap himself up in blankets and hope the snow that’s blown in doesn’t melt through them because he literally has no other options  ~~ except bothering Phil and Techno and asking to come inside which isn’t really an option at all. ~~

The crisp chill of the air, at least, is comforting, even if the threat of snow isn’t. On a clear day, he can’t imagine anywhere else he would rather be.

(He thinks the End is probably cold, if it brings him such comfort. Like it satisfies some  _ need _ that he had previously neglected. He can’t remember ever being in the End, though, and it’s sealed off anyway, so he supposes it will always be a mystery.)

A soft knock on one of his shack’s posts startles him out of his reverie, and he looks up to see Techno standing by the gate, bundled up in his cloak. The man’s face is unreadable as ever when he asks, “You gonna be alright out here when the storm blows in?”

Ranboo nods. “Yeah! Endermen run cold, and I have these blankets to keep the snow off.”

Techno raises an eyebrow and stares for a couple seconds, as if expecting him to change his answer, then shakes his head and turns back to his house. “Okay, then. Come in if it gets too much.”

It’s not really surprising that he’s not putting up more of a fuss about Ranboo’s living conditions. It’s not like he is one to trust easy, especially after Tommy, and Ranboo  _ will _ be fine, it’s just… No, he’ll be fine. He doesn’t need… He doesn’t need people to hold his hand through a snowstorm. It’s fine. Everything’s fine.

* * *

Narrator voice: Everything is not fine.

The wind has picked up and the snow drifts have almost replaced his lack of walls in height. The blanket is pretty far into the process of being soaked through and in approximately five minutes, at Ranboo’s best guess, not only will it be cold enough for even an enderman to get hypothermia, his blanket will also start feeling like it has been set on fire. Burning and freezing at the same time, what a wild experience that Ranboo most definitely never wants to partake in ever in his life.

The other problem is that his hands are too numb to reach for his communicator, and he doesn’t think his legs would hold him if he tried to stand. Not to mention he would have to, somehow, shovel his way through all of that snow and wind to the main cabin without passing out from pain or tripping over numb feet.

“Ranboo?” a voice calls, and Ranboo thanks every higher power who might be smiling down on him right now  ~~ except Dream ~~ for Phil’s fortuitous timing. “Ranboo, mate, I sure hope you’re somewhere behind all that snow.”

“Here,” he croaks, levering himself up from his bed with shaking arms. “In here!”

The howling of the wind increases in volume as the man breaks through the snowdrift, using his wings to plow through into the shack. His eyes fix immediately on Ranboo’s lanky, shaking form and he curses, rushing forward. “Why didn’t you come inside? It’s freezing out here, mate, you’ll catch your death.”

“I thought I could handle a bit of snow,” he mumbles as he allows the man to take his weight and tugged him out. “I’m usually fine with the cold, and snow isn’t as bad as rain.”

Phil huffs a strained laugh. “That doesn’t mean it isn’t bad still, Ranboo.”

The kid lowers his head to rest on top of the shorter man’s, blinking sleepily as he’s half-lead half-pulled towards the cabin. “Didn’t want to… to bother you an’ Techno. I can deal with it.”

“‘Can’ doesn’t always mean ‘should,’ mate.” Kicking the door open and dragging the tall child inside, Phil slams it shut behind them both without a care for the noise and immediately sets to work on brushing all of the snow off of the boy. He hisses in sympathy when he pulls off the kid’s soaked jacket and sees the water burns around his wrists and neck. “That’s gotta hurt, bud. I’m going to guess there’s more burns under the rest of that suit too?”

Miserable and half-asleep already, Ranboo nods and shifts to accommodate him as the man slowly peels the wet shirt off his skin.

A second gasp from the ladder echoes Phil’s at the sight of his irritated and inflamed burns, and the boy peeks up from under his hair to see Techno standing stock still, staring. 

Ranboo jerks his gaze away and hunches in on himself self-consciously. “It was just a bit of water. I’ll be fine.”

“Kid…” Techno huffs, the clopping of his heels on the hardwood indicating his approach. “That storm out there is more than ‘just a bit of water.’”

A scolding warble from the corner of the room reminds Ranboo that Edward is here, too, and the kid somehow manages to feel even more embarrassed as the enderman joins in on telling him how dumb he was to just sit in his little walless shack during a snowstorm. 

Edward goes on at length, knowing better than either of the men how much danger Ranboo had put himself in. At some point during this lecture, Phil finally finishes bandaging all of Ranboo’s burns and presses a healing potion into the kid’s hands. With mute obedience, he drinks it slowly, head still bowed under Edward’s attention. 

The enderman suddenly cuts himself off. Ranboo peers up to see Techno murmuring something to his roommate, who hums something in return before turning back to Ranboo and finishing with a short, worried  _ vwoop vwoop  _ and falling silent. The piglin hybrid shakes his head with the slightest hint of what might be a smile and turns to the middle of the room, revealing the steaming bowl cupped in his hands.

Without hesitation, Phil herds Ranboo to the couch and bundles him up in blankets before allowing Techno to pass the stew over. 

The pink-haired man crouches in front of him, reaching to squeeze his knee gently. “You’re going to come in during storms now. Got it?” He stands with a flourish of his cape and turns his face away. “Can’t have you dying on me. We have enough ghosts around here.”

Ranboo watches him stride away, bemused and drowsing in the warmth of the cabin as he carefully takes a spoonful of the stew. It’s strange, really, how he had commented on Ranboo’s possible demise instead of his imposition on his home and space just because he couldn’t handle a little storm. Maybe… he cares about that less than Ranboo thought?

These people are so confusing. In a good way, he thinks? But still. Confusing.

But for now he can rest, safe from the storm and snow in this warmth that he’s almost certain is from more than the fire in the hearth. He wonders, as he drifts into light sleep and gentle hands pluck an empty bowl from his hands, where this warmth in his chest came from. This… peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not super satisfied with that ending but eh. It is how it is. What'd you all think?


	5. teleportation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aborting a half-started teleport is painful. Even more so if you’re panicking in the middle of it. And several times in a row? Sometimes Ranboo thinks respawn would be less painful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello tis i, back with some angsty h/c
> 
> no techno here, sorry, just dadza and edward

Aborting a half-started teleport is painful. Even more so if you’re panicking in the middle of it. And several times in a row? Sometimes Ranboo thinks respawn would be less painful. 

It’s just his luck that he finds himself in that exact set of circumstances while living with an overly kind but still absolutely terrifying couple of anarchists and their enderman elder roommate. 

It was a nightmare, he thinks, or a memory of some kind. With the way his life has been going, though, the two might not be mutually exclusive. He thinks Dream was in it. He can’t quite remember. He’s not even sure if he wants to at this point.

But that’s all beside the point. The _point_ is that Ranboo has been curled up on his bed basically glitching in and out of reality with half-started teleports, his entire body screaming in agony except for his chest, which has gone numb from the cold of his overworked pearl. Time is irrelevant like this, locked up in agony and the repetitive cycle of his inherent instinct to transport away from the source of the pain and his learned instincts to _never, ever teleport_ ( ~~instincts so strong he’d forgotten how to do it on command, and sometimes even forgetting whether or not he could at all~~ ).

If he could breathe right now he would be screaming. All he manages is a small, strangled gurgle of distressed ender before he’s choking on the pain again, breathless and broken and barely conscious.

A hand gently grips his shoulder and turns him onto his back, but he’s too out of it to see anything through his foggy, burning tears and the thick curtain of ender particles clouding his vision. Whoever it is murmurs something, a steady stream of words as they carefully gather him up and press him against a sturdy chest. 

Time shifts and tumbles and blurs and, the next moment that Ranboo can pin down with any kind of certainty, he finds himself being manhandled onto something soft and warm. He still jitters and jerks in half-started jumps, but those careful hands push his shoulders onto the downy softness beneath him, firmly but cautiously forcing him to straighten from his locked, twisted ball. A warm, malleable object is placed on his chest, right above his icy core, and immediately the cold numbness recedes, shocking him out of his stupor enough that he can recognize the object as something brittle and crumbling and hot wrapped in cloth —embers?

A hand cards through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp in a soothing rhythm. The fizzing in his blood slowly abates, the half-teleports wracking through him sparking under his skin less and less often. 

Eventually the panic has dimmed to the point where he can breathe again, and he gasps for air like a drowning man. The person next to him catches his wrist and presses the boy’s palm flat against their chest, encouraging him to follow their breathing. As it evens out he blinks up and sees violet eyes and a towering form.

_“Edward?”_ he warbles, canting his head into the hand still tangled in his hair subconsciously. _“What… where…?”_

_“Safe,”_ the elder assures with a low hum that Ranboo can feel under his hand. _“Home.”_

Something restless under his skin stills at that, recognizes that the ender word for _home_ is the same as _pillar_ and _foundation,_ and he breathes a sigh of relief. 

“Edward? ‘S the kid awake?”

The boy jolts at the new voice before it registers as Phil’s, and he slumps against the nest of pillows and blankets he’s been swaddled in, panting at the sudden movement and the waves of pain it drags from his sore limbs.

“Ranboo?” Phil pops his head into the door, visibly relaxing at the sight of him still blinking blearily but very much awake. He pushes his way into the room, a bowl and mug in his hands. “You scared us, mate! Edward was making such a racket ‘til I went to look for you and you were just glitching out in the snow… So we brought you in, patched you up. Tech’s ender pal here refused to leave so I just let him stay. That alright?”

He nods briefly, squeezing his eyes shut when it makes his head spin. 

“Here.” Phil holds out the lightly steaming bowl. “Eat up. I’m sure that took a lot outta you.”

Still trying to wake up fully and process his surroundings, Ranboo hesitantly accepts the stew and sips at it carefully, hands trembling from exhaustion. Edward helps support the bottom of the bowl with one hand, crooning softly.

It takes what is frankly an embarrassingly long time to finish, and when he does it is all he can do to keep his eyes open and struggle to drink the now-cold tea that Phil had brought in with the food. Once he’s done Edward doesn’t hesitate to gently press him back into the bed and tuck him in snuggly enough that Ranboo thinks he wouldn’t be able to move if he tried.

Phil watches fondly from the doorway as Edward smoothes back Ranboo’s bangs and he stretches his wings behind him with a relieved sigh. “I think you’re out of the woods, mate, so all that’s left for you to do is rest up and get your strength back. We’ll need to have a chat about what that was, but that can wait until later. Get some rest.”

A part of him wants to spiral into anxiety about what _we’ll need to have a chat_ means, but the rest of him is too exhausted to bother analysing it. 

Edward gives Ranboo’s fluffy hair one more pat before following Phil out of the room and leaving the kid to drift off to sleep.

* * *

The next time Ranboo wakes up his mind is far more clear, and he has more control of his limbs, even if he still feels like a strong breeze would be able to knock him over. Again, Edward is sitting next to him when he blinks his eyes open, and immediately helps prop him up in a sitting position.

Phil also seems to have magical timing and steps into the room mere moments later with another bowl of food and steaming mug of tea. He’s smiling, but in that sad way he does when he knows someone is hurting and needs to be comforted.

Ranboo doesn’t particularly want to think about why he knows that look well enough to identify it. 

The man sits on the edge of Ranboo’s bed this time, draping a wing across the kid’s lap. “So. We need to talk about what got you in that state, if you can remember. I know it’s not going to be fun, but it’s important.”

Vaguely, Ranboo wonders if they didn’t wait longer to have this conversation because by then he’d have the strength to run away. Still, hypotheticals won’t help now, so he sighs and closes his eyes. “It was just a bad dream, I think. I got worked up and spiralled.”

Edward grumbles a short _“and then you refused your pearl freedom”_ before pressing the bowl of stew into his hands again.

_“I suppose.”_ He pushes the stew around with his spoon, not particularly hungry. Well, not not-hungry, but he doesn’t really have an appetite when thinking about… that, and all.

“That looked like more than just spiraling, mate.” Phil prods, feathers fluffing up a bit. “I have a guess, though. Teleporting, right? Except you never finished one, and so it kept trying again. Am I right?”

When Ranboo doesn’t answer, Edward nods for him with a sound that is easily translated as affirmation.

Phil sighs and glances sidelong at the kid. “You can’t just suppress stuff like that, Ranboo. If your pearl says you need to teleport, it’s usually because you’re in danger. Or it perceives you to be in danger. Trying to shut that down will only make it freak out more.”

“I gathered,” he replies with a dry chuckle. He’s too tired for this conversation, too anxious about habits long drilled into him by… somebody. A long time ago. “I don’t think I meant to. Try to shut it down, that is.”

There’s a long moment of silence where Phil seems to be looking for something in Ranboo’s posture or expression, maybe something to tip him off that he’s lying or hiding the full truth. Not that he is. Ranboo really doesn’t think he would hurt himself like that on purpose. Probably. No, he definitely wouldn’t. What happened in the past that could be bad enough to make him that afraid of himself?

The man finally sighs, shifting his wing so it nudges the kid’s arm. “Scooch over, mate.”

Confused, Ranboo (with Edward’s help) accommodates him as the man moves to sit beside him instead of at his feet. He drapes a wing around Ranboo’s shoulders and uses it to tuck him into his side, warm and cozy and not helping the ender boy stay awake at all. 

Despite himself, he leans into the comfort. As he’s drifting off, he half-hears half-feels Phil’s sigh and his quiet murmur, “You’re going to worry us half to death aren’t you?”

A hand tangles itself in Ranboo’s hair and rests there. 

“But that’s the joy of fatherhood, isn’t it Edward?”

Whatever the enderman replies with, Ranboo is too gone to hear it, asleep and warm and safer than he’s ever remembered feeling before meeting these kind, wonderful people. He honestly wishes he could stay here forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m ending a lot of these with ranboo falling asleep on people but honestly i love that so i’m keeping it


	6. nocturnal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night is loud, even if the tundra is silent. It’s someething Ranboo has never been able to describe, not even to himself. It’s less a sound and more a _song,_ something crooning and calling that is painfully nostalgic even as he struggles to understand why it feels so familiar, why it tugs at the half-formed pearl deep in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feeling poetic tonight lads
> 
> i have no idea where this came from so it’s a lot different than the others, but i still feel rather fond of it, so here we are
> 
> Pineapplefishy, wherever you are, you should feel proud of yourself. this originally was planted in the back of my mind by a comment you made in an earlier chapter about endermen being nocturnal. at the time i doubt either of us thought it would be something quite like this, but the world works in mysterious ways. i hope it lives up to whatever your expectations were.

The night is loud, even if the tundra is silent. It’s something Ranboo has never been able to describe, not even to himself. It’s less a sound and more a _song,_ something crooning and calling that is painfully nostalgic even as he struggles to understand why it feels so familiar, why it tugs at his half-formed pearl deep in his chest.

Sometimes the night is so loud any roof feels smothering, any walls feel like a cage. But people stay inside at night, he’s supposed to sleep and only rise again with the sun. It’s not normal to wander in the dark with monsters and danger, and it will only leave him exhausted in the morning. He has no reason to leave his shack. He shouldn’t get out of bed.

But something is calling and it’s so much louder out here than it was in L’Manberg, so much harder to ignore, so much clearer without the distortion of… the lights? Where did that thought come from? Light doesn’t affect sound.

Ranboo isn’t sleeping tonight, is he?

With a sigh, he gives in and rolls out of bed. He stretches to his full height and leans out from under his roof, head tilted back to gaze at the stars. The pull becomes stronger the longer he gazes up, like a hook through his sternum but of something warm and soft instead of cold and sharp, and before he knows it his feet are leading him out into the snow-covered field. He doesn’t look where he’s going, eyes still fixed on the sky, but he doesn’t stumble and his feet don’t catch on anything hidden in the snow.

The song rises in the silence around him, twisting through his ribs and draping itself over his shoulders like sunsets and comets and fireflies and an ever-gentle burning designed to warm an infinite darkness. It rises in his chest and his pearl hums in reply, harmonizing with the lilting music falling in a curtain around him like snow.

He hears a trill, soft and warbling, and it takes him a moment to realize that was _him,_ and actually out loud. But if the song isn’t out loud, what is it?

The stars seem to brighten more the longer he looks at them.

The part of him that’s been hiding him and keeping him alive for so long is writhing and whispering that something is _wrong wrong wrong what is happening what is calling him why is he out standing in the snow without looking around him at all he should not feel so safe in the night._ And yet.

Yet.

The other part, the one he’s pushed down and down for as long as he can remember, the part Techno and Phil and Edward have been coaxing out slowly, is enthralled by the pinpricks of light in the sky. It melts under the gentle touch of the song, rendering him malleable and quivering with something vulnerable and oh-so-trusting that he hasn’t felt in… he can’t remember how long. He’s not sure he’s ever left himself quite so open.

He trills again, because he can, and he feels warm.

The night _sings,_ and he sings with it, alone with the masses of stars that touch his very core with their light in the dark, their burning in the endless void around them. He feels a sort of kinship that only compares to how he feels when he talks to Edward or when he passes other endermen in the snow. He feels safe. He feels like he’s at home.

There is no telling time like this, only the night and the song and his connection to both. 

One by one, he feels other presences join him in his vigil, and out of the corner of his eye he sees tall, dark figures with their own heads tilted back to stare at the sky. There is a unity here, an individual reaching but all together in solidarity, and he thinks he understands endermen a little more. They don’t need packs like other mobs, only need themselves and their own two hands and the night sky above to sing to for companionship.

Ranboo stands in the snow, under the sky full of so many more stars than he ever saw in L’Manberg, in the country where he felt isolated even amongst the people. 

Ranboo stands and he trills in harmony with the song wrapped around him in a near-empty field and he has never felt less alone.

Too soon, all too soon, the sun rises. The sun rises and the song rises with it in a burning crescendo that presses itself firmly against his sternum, and as the last of the sun crests the horizon… the world falls still. All is quiet.

And Ranboo has never felt quite so lost, cut adrift so suddenly from something he had been so immersed in but doesn’t have any way to understand. He has no context, no concept, no tether to bring himself back down to earth, and his trill falters into an unstable warble without anything to match it to.

It’s Techno who finds him, alone and half-aware and lost in the field just outside the cabin, and it’s Techno who fetches Phil and Edward to help figure out what’s happening when he doesn’t respond to him outside of sad, warbling half-songs that trail off into nothing, unfinished and disconnected.

Unsurprisingly, though, for the nature of the issue, it’s Edward who brings Ranboo back from the edge of the night. One hand on his shoulder, the other cradling the side of his face, the elder hums softly to begin. The hum lightens to a croon and up into a short, chirping trill that the child subconsciously meets. They sing, for a moment, together, and then Edward cautiously lowers them both again, careful to bring the kid with him, grounding him. 

Their songs trail off together, Ranboo’s pearl finally calms, and he slumps into the elder’s gentle grip, exhausted by more than he can comprehend. Edward lifts him from the snow, cradles him in his arms, and turns to face Techno and Phil. The two men share a look, a silent conversation, and then turn to lead the two enders back into the cabin.

Ranboo doesn’t sleep, not exactly, but he does become aware of himself again only hours later when the sun is already halfway up the sky. He jerks up abruptly, dizzy with confusion and exhaustion, but is firmly pressed down to the couch again by the elder, _his_ elder. 

Edward brushes his hair out of his face. _“You reached quite far in the soul-song, young one.”_

_“Soul-song?”_ he echoes, leaning into the cool touch. _“Is that what that was?”_

A soft, pained sound from the elder startles Ranboo, but Edward hushes him again. Still, he seems sad when he asks, _“You’ve never joined a soul-song?”_

_“I’ve never experienced anything like that,”_ he admits as he pushes himself up into a sitting position again despite the unusual weight of his limbs. _“I think that would be something I would remember.”_

_“You would,”_ Edward agrees solemnly, lending his arm for Ranboo to lean on as the kid struggles to his feet. _“The feeling is not something that can be separated from us. It is essential as food is for humans, the song. It speaks of your resilience that you have survived so long without it.”_

_“Resilience?”_ Ranboo huffs a slightly hysterical laugh. _“That’s not a word I’d ever think applied to me. I fall apart on a regular basis.”_

_“If you were not resilient,”_ Edward hums, assisting him to the ladder leading to the basement. _“You would not have made it this far with all three lives intact.”_

_“You… may have a point,”_ Ranboo concedes, carefully lowering himself with shaky arms.

Two hands support his hips from below and take most of his weight as he almost tumbles off the ladder, strength failing him. He slumps back against the chest of the person who caught him and feels it rumble with a low laugh. “Alright there, mate?”

Scrambling to his feet only to be caught again by Edward as he loses his footing, Ranboo can feel his face heat. “Yeah, yeah. I’m good.”

Phil chuckles and steps back over towards the chests, sorting through them absently. “You know what last night was about?”

“Uh.” Ranboo leans back into his elder more, comforted by the supporting hand on his shoulder. “Not really? Edward says it’s called a soul-song? And, well, it seems— it seems to be really important for endermen, and I think it affected me so strongly because I’ve never, um… Never been part of one? Before?”

The sounds of rustling in the chests halts abruptly, but Phil doesn’t move to straighten. After a short pause that sends anxiety skittering under Ranboo’s skin, he heaves a sigh and returns to whatever task he came down here to accomplish. “Really, Ranboo, you gotta stop pushing your ender stuff down, mate. Instincts exist for a reason.”

“I know,” he assures with a small, embarrassed smile. “That’s, um, probably the only reason this happened at all, tonight. Because you guys keep telling me… yeah. I think, I think the song has called me before and I just. Ignored it? Because it felt... weird, or wrong, I guess. But I didn’t this time! So… progress?”

The man grins at him over his shoulder as he closes the chest, turning fully to face him. “That is progress. Well done, Ranboo.” The basement isn’t large, so it only takes two steps for him to come stand next to them, and he reaches up to place a hand on Ranboo’s shoulder. His smile is so wide, so sincere, so warm. “I’m proud of you, mate.”

Ranboo warbles something indeccipherable and ducks his head, but he can’t help the smile tugging at the side of his mouth. “Uh, thanks, Phil. Thank you.”

He chuckles again and steps back, head still tilted to look up at them. “I really am, son. I’m so proud of you. You’ve come so far since you first came to live here. It’s a wonder to see.”

A hum starts again in Ranboo’s chest, quiet and warm, and he welcomes it with a smile. He feels almost ridiculous, now, that he’s pushed this away for so long. Like a man seeing a sunrise for the first time after years in the dark, he basks in the sensation and decides to live in the moment. 

Whatever came before, what ever comes later— right here, right now, Ranboo isn’t alone. He’s found somewhere he belongs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m feeling really soft right now in case you haven’t noticed. i just want my found family dynamic, guys, why does canon have to be so angsty :(
> 
> i say, preparing to give ranboo reason to go feral next chapter, lmao


	7. feral eye contact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The admin looks in their direction just in time to bring his shield up and catch Techno’s axe blow, shouting something Ranboo can’t hear over the roaring in his ears. Something pulses behind his ribcage, something reaching and freezing, and Ranboo doesn’t try to push it back. In seconds he’s next to Phil, sword raised to deflect Punz’s before he spins around and slashes at Sapnap, forcing the man to release his captive or lose a hand. 
> 
> Sapnap looks up and locks eyes with Ranboo. A mistake, really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> techno and ranboo can go feral together, as a treat
> 
> that means hurt phil, obviously
> 
> sorry for no edward in this one, he's just holding the fort down at home
> 
> also i would like you all to know that i only ever updated un-anonymously like every two months for my “main” even before i started this series so you should all feel special and be grateful to ranboo for being amazing
> 
> and TW i think? for slight, briefly mentioned unintentionall self-harm and like, a panic attack?

The thing about living with anarchists who’ve blown up a country several times and killed a bunch of people beside that, Ranboo comes to realize, is that they have a lot of enemies. A shocker, he knows. 

What’s _so surprising_ is that, by association, _their_ enemies now consider _him_ an enemy. Wow. Completely unheard of.

The thing that should probably be considered here, though, is what kind of enemy Ranboo would make.

He’s kept himself quiet and out of the way, still and careful and harmless. Since living with Techno, Phil, and Edward, though… well, he’s not small anymore. He’s not trying to hide.

So when someone thinks it’s a good idea to hurt one of his friends, thinks _oh there’s no one to stop us but our targets,_ well… Ranboo has to step in.

* * *

He’s sitting in Techno’s living room helping the man brew potions when Phil messages them. A simple _hey I’ll be longer than I thought but don’t burn the midnight oil for me_ that just feels _wrong,_ and when Ranboo shares a look with Techno he knows the other man senses it too. Something’s up, and Phil doesn’t want them involved.

Phil wants them to stay safe.

Which means Phil is in danger.

Without having to say a word, the both of them start gathering their weapons and donning their armor. Ranboo pockets a few strength and health potions while Techno shoulders the axe Ranboo had gifted him with a nod to Edward before the two of them stalk out the door in dangerous silence.

Techno moves with purpose, like he already knows where Phil is, so Ranboo follows with a careful eye on their surroundings. The other members of the server that they pass all step aside and can’t even look at them, and Ranboo doesn’t even bother debating about whether it’s because he’s ender or because it looks like he and Techno are on a warpath. Either way has the same result: no one gets in their way.

The scenery around them changes, and Ranboo recognizes the dark mass of the prison on the horizon, bile rising in his throat. He shoves the nausea down viciously. Phil needs him, he can’t afford any distractions right now. He’ll catastrophize about voices and consequences later. Right now he has a friend to save.

A friend right in front of the prison itself, struggling against two men in white shirts trying to drag him in as a third in green stands watch. Punz, Sapnap, Dream. Enemies.

The admin looks in their direction just in time to bring his shield up and catch Techno’s axe blow, shouting something Ranboo can’t hear over the roaring in his ears. Something pulses behind his ribcage, something reaching and freezing, and Ranboo doesn’t try to push it back. In seconds he’s next to Phil, sword raised to deflect Punz’s before he spins around and slashes at Sapnap, forcing the man to release his captive or lose a hand. 

Sapnap looks up and locks eyes with Ranboo. A mistake, really.

The man can’t move or dodge the sword aimed for his heart, and then Ranboo is down an opponent. He spins to strike at Punz again, movements instinctive and harsh. There are people speaking, shouting, but he hears none of it, overwhelmed and consumed by the need to _protect bonds, save friend, destroy the gaze._

Between one moment and the next Punz is gone too, and when Ranboo looks up to gauge the other fight he only sees Techno, blood dripping from his axe, and Phil, carefully approaching the other man even as he shakes from his own close call. The kid stands and watches and heaves for breath as the riled, angry hum in his chest slows, quiets, stills. There’s still something coiled around his spine, restless and fiery, but directionless. With no other outward threat to face, it turns inward, and his vision tunnels.

The past half hour since they received Phil’s message plays in his mind and he tears it apart in search of flaws, in ways he could have been faster, done better, protected more. Techno had moved before he had even though Ranboo can teleport. Ranboo hadn’t been able to take out either of Phil’s captors right away. Ranboo hadn’t faced Dream.

Ranboo isn’t even helping Phil now, after the fight, because he’s stuck in his head, trapped by a feral intensity he doesn’t understand.

There’s nothing to fight, nothing to defend against. Ranboo doesn’t know what to do with his hands, still clenched tightly around the handle of his blade. His jaw hurts, and he doesn’t know why. The world is blurring and trembling and he _needs to protect_ but he doesn’t know from what.

And there are _eyes,_ aggravating, and he swings his sword with a staticy screech only to have it blocked and to have the _gaze_ disappear, but it was there, there’s someone watching, there are too many _eyes._

Arms, strong and firm but gentle and _familiar_ wrap around him, forcing him to drop his sword and pinning his hands to his chest. He’s on the ground, he realizes, when did he get on the ground? And it’s dimmer, he’s surrounded by soft walls of grey that he vaguely recognizes but can’t quite place through the fuzzy, panicked paranoia buzzing behind his eyes. Someone grabs his hands, pries his fingers from where he had been unwittingly carving gouges into his arms, and rubs small circles onto the backs of them. A low, murmuring voice breaks through the fog of frantic, feral instincts, and it repeats something careful and calming and he _knows_ that voice, who’s voice is that?

Techno. That’s Techno. Techno would never let anything happen to him, would never let anything happen to _Phil,_ so if Techno’s here… he’s okay? It’s safe?

Oh, ender, he just freaked out on Techno and Phil _after_ the fight was already over, didn’t he? That’s embarrassing.

Right, Techno’s speaking. What’s he saying? Something about breathing, and counting, and Ranboo does his best to follow along. The ache in his jaw lessens, and something tight in his chest loosens abruptly, leaving him gasping for breath. He leans forward against the arms still wrapped around his own biceps and chest to rest his head against Techno’s shoulder, coming back to himself in stuttering jerks that leave him bewlidered and unbalanced. 

One hand moves from his wrist to his upper back, rubbing small, soothing circles into the fabric of his suit. Techno doesn’t seem to mind the contact, doesn’t stop his careful instructions to breathe.

After what feels like both an eternity and barely a few seconds, Ranboo pulls away again and leans back into the chest of who he now recognizes to be Phil (with his steady presence and wings sheltering their little huddle from the world and _his beating heart that means he’s here he’s alive he’s safe he’s safe he’s safe_ ), fixing his gaze on the hollow of Techno’s throat while he tries to figure out what to say about… all of _that._

Should he apologize? Should he say anything at all? He doesn’t even know what _happened._ One moment he’s brewing potions and the next all he knows is Phil’s in danger and he needs to _protect protect protect—_

“You back with us now, Ranboo?” 

Ranboo’s eyes flicker up to Techno’s before jerking away again when something in his head _screams._ Still, he nods, trying to catch his breath again. What was _that?_

“You’ve never gone feral before, have you mate?” Phil squeezes him slightly, his embrace more of a hug than a restraint at this point. “I know Tech’s first time was tough.”

“Feral?” he echoes, voice raspy in the way it tends to be after things like his blackouts… though this definitely wasn’t that. “Is that…?”

“It’s something most neutral and a few hostile mobs have to deal with,” Techno informs him, a little of what Ranboo mentally calls his _sensei-voice_ leaking into his tone as he carefully helps the young ender to his feet. “It’s a natural threat response, but it takes a lot outta you, in my experience. I’m surprised this is your first break, though, on a server as stressful as this.”

“I just tend to black out when stressed, though.” He cants his head to the side in confusion. The mental math doesn’t add up. “Or especially stressed, I suppose. I’m usually stressed.”

There’s a few seconds of silence where Techno just stares past him, and if Ranboo didn’t know better he would say the man looks some kind of heartbroken and horrified. The kid can only shuffle in place, uncomfortable under his attention (though glad his gaze is averted still).

Phil places a hand on his friend’s shoulder in reassurance, despite looking wrecked himself. “We already knew he suppressed a lot of stuff, Techno. This isn’t much worse than when he kept himself from teleporting.”

The piglin whirls on him in shock. “He _what?”_

“Um.” They both spin to face Ranboo, and he hunches in on himself before timidly asking, “Can we have this conversation… not here?”

The two men, still in sync, glance up at the prison. Techno sighs dramatically and slings an arm around Ranboo’s back, too short to reach his shoulders. “Fine, this can wait until we get home. But we are talking about it. This isn’t the kind of thing we’re just going to brush off until there’s a convenient time for the antagnist to drag it into the spotlight for maximum emotional impact, Mr Main Character.”

Allowing himself to be ushered along, Ranboo manages a weak chuckle at that. “Yes, of course, oh wise sensei.”

Techno snorts and tightens his grip, then goes off on a tangent about some ridiculous idea his voices have been spamming. Phil laughs along, one tattered wing stretched to hang above the other two as they make their way to the portal and towards home.

_Home._ Ranboo can’t remember the last time he truly called a place home. He thinks, if anywhere, with Phil and Edward and Techno… that’s more home than anything, right?

* * *

[Much later, without Ranboo]

“Hey, Phil.”

“Yeah mate?”

“Do endermen normally have that many teeth?”

“Uh, no. No, they do not.”

“Huh. Weird. Wait, aren’t enderman teeth flat?”

“Yeah, they are.”

“Ranboo’s looked like lots of little knives. Don’t even know how they fit in his jaw, honestly, unhinged or not.”

“Don’t look at me, mate. Even the kid doesn’t know what his other side is.”

“This just adds to his mysterious backstory, Phil. Hey, don’t laugh at me! Phil, this is serious. My plot relevance, Phil!”

“I’m sure you’re going to stay relevant as long as the kid looks up to you, Techno.”

“And that’s my cue to go! Night, Phil, make sure you rest your old man bones or you won’t be any use to the kid later. Bye!”

“I’ll show you ‘old man’—”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next one's the last one! the intervention! finally! say it with me now: communication is key!


End file.
